Noble Intentions: Season Two (Episodes 6-10) (23 page)

Jasmine placed her palms on the floor, under her shoulders, and pushed up. She wasn’t unconscious. She brought her knees up under her. Bad move. A boot connected with her side, near her stomach. The impact of the kick was enough to lift her off the ground and flip her over. She landed hard on her back. The air escaped her lungs. An attempt to roll over was quickly thwarted by a hand on her head. She was lifted into a seated position. Pulled up by her hair.

“You stupid bitch,” Chernov said as he continued to lift her.

Jasmine struggled to breathe. The effort reduced any chance she had at landing another blow. She glanced around. The flashlight provided minimal illumination behind her. Her eyes widened at the things she saw. She had to catch her breath. She had to continue to fight.

“Kenneth,” Chernov said. “Are you up?”

The man grunted and staggered to his feet, using the stairs to prop his body off the ground.

“Dammit, Kenneth, at least take the flashlight.”

Kenneth came around using the stairs and then the wall to support himself. He took the flashlight from Chernov’s outstretched hand and shined it on Jasmine.

She flinched when the light hit her eyes. At once, her lungs expanded and damp air rushed in through her mouth. She brought her arm close to her chest and drove her elbow into the side of Chernov’s face. He let go of her and she attempted to sweep his feet out from under him. Another bad move. As she lowered herself to deliver the kick, he brought his fist down, catching her on her cheek. She had been in an awkward position and, while the blow was not particularly hard, it was enough to knock her off balance. She fell back.

Chernov jumped on her and used his weight against her. He said, “Get the restraints.” He pressed her flat to the ground and held her arms out and above her head.

Jasmine felt the cold metal touch her wrists and then envelop them. First her left, then her right. She could do nothing to stop it. She tried, but her thrashing and kicking and biting and head butting did nothing to free her from Chernov’s grip.

She heard one click, then another. Then Chernov exhaled and rolled off of her. The sound of metal grating against metal filled the room and she felt her arms stretch taught as they were yanked into the air. Her body followed. A moment later she hung in the air, toes barely touching the ground.

“Lower her a bit.” Chernov passed by her and grabbed the flashlight while Kenneth dropped the chains a few inches.

Her feet hit the ground and her arms dropped a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Chernov directed the flashlight to the corner of the room. He walked over and opened a box mounted on the wall. Flipped a large rectangular framed switch and three lights turned on. One at the base of the stairs and two above Jasmine. They cast yellow light across the room.

It became clear to Jasmine that she was in a dungeon.

6

Pierre stood behind the art gallery. He replayed the conversation he’d had with Clarissa over and over in his head. He tried to shake the guilt, but couldn’t. Hadn’t been able to for six months. Why would he be able to now? It made no sense to him. He was trained to have no conscience. How could someone with a conscience do the things he had done during his twenty years in the agency?

We were on the side of right.

A teenage boy dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and an apron burst through the screen door. He carried two bags of trash, one in each hand. Pierre stepped aside and let the young man pass, glad that he had already retrieved his weapon from inside the dumpster. The boy took the six steps again, two at a time, yanked the door open and disappeared inside the kitchen area.

Pierre had decisions to make. The first, whether or not to take the girl, was already decided. But what to do once he had taken her? That was the question that played on his mind. The honorable thing to do would be to uphold his end of the deal with Bear and return the girl to him. It’s what he promised. Sure, there was the certainty that Bear would kill him if he refused to comply. He was, after all, there to kill Bear.

Pierre found the lure of the money to be strong, though. And to top it off, Clarissa was inside. He could lure her out and terminate her, too. Surely, the old man would be doubly happy if he did so. If Bear was worth two-fifty, and the old man offered to more than double the payment in exchange for the little girl, imagine what he would pay if Clarissa had been disposed of as well. Seven-fifty? A million? The money tempted Pierre like a twenty dollar whore after six weeks stuck in a ten by ten room with four male agents.

The door burst open again and the same young man stepped through carrying a third bag of trash. He asked, “Can I get a smoke?”

Pierre nodded and pulled out two cigarettes. Lit both. Handed one to the teenager.

“Nice night,” the guy said.

Pierre nodded.

“Was supposed to go out with this girl tonight. Total babe. A buddy of mine was supposed to work this gig. Called in sick, though. So they asked me to come in.”

“And you did?”

The guy shrugged. “They offered an extra two dollars an hour. Plus, if I didn’t, my buddy would have been fired.”

“So you ditched the girl to save your friend’s job.”

“Yeah.”

“Dumbass.”

The guy laughed and said, “Thanks for the smoke.” He flicked the lit cigarette into the dumpster and hopped up the stairs and back into the kitchen.

Pierre looked over at the dumpster and noticed a stream of smoke lifting above it. The cigarette had started a small fire. Pierre smiled. He pulled out his lighter and set more trash on fire. Then he checked his watch and realized he had just a few seconds before he was supposed to meet Mandy.

The only people in the kitchen were the cooks and the teenage boy. Pierre nodded at him and the guy smiled in return. Pierre walked to the swinging door and looked through a round window cut in the center. He saw the little girl in the hall. She had only taken a few steps on her way to the restrooms. He pushed through and stopped.

The little girl looked at him, nodded once and winked, once with each eye. Close enough. Pierre nodded back, winked. They both walked toward each other and Pierre turned and ushered her in front of him. They crossed through the kitchen, empty except for the cooks and the teenage boy. He didn’t acknowledge Pierre this time. The guy’s head was down and his hands worked a metal tray with a sponge.

Pierre opened the screen door and waited for Mandy to step out.

“Quickly,” he said. “Down the stairs and turn right.”

She took the stairs one at a time, stopped at the bottom and turned to the right.

“Go. Walk ahead of me for a minute. I’ll catch up to you.”

Pierre stood at the stairs. He scanned the rooftops of the buildings nearby. Saw no one. He knew that didn’t mean they were clear, though. Someone could be hunched over, or blended into an area where Pierre would not be able to distinguish them from the building and the sky. He pulled the gun from his pants and held it tight. Started walking in the same direction as Mandy. Caught up with her a few seconds later.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He didn’t respond. He placed one hand on her shoulder and held the gun in the other. His eyes scanned the buildings. Red brick during the day. Masses of black at night. His heart raced. Something wasn’t right. He stopped. Closed his eyes. He centered the girl in front of him. Wrapped an arm across her face, covering her eyes and ears and mouth. He lifted the gun over her shoulder.

Mandy wriggled against his grasp. Every movement she made resulted in her becoming pulled closer and tighter.

Pierre brought the gun up a few inches, turned it inward. He opened his eyes. Looked down at the top of her blond head. He held the gun tight and placed his finger on the trigger. It felt ice cold against the tip of his index finger.

He heard a click, like the sound of a small twig snapping. He looked up, to the left. Saw a glint of light. Saw a man standing there. Saw him raising a gun and aiming it at them.

Pierre lifted his arm and quickly aimed in the direction of the man. He pulled the trigger three times. At least one bullet hit the man and he fell back and hit the ground.

Pierre scooped Mandy in his arms and ducked behind the first alley he could find. He ran as fast and as hard as he could. He crossed the road without looking left or looking right. Continued on and into the next alley, between two buildings. He stopped. Set the girl down and then bent over, catching his breath. The little girl cried. Pierre pulled her close and hugged her.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “I had to or he would have shot us.”

She continued to cry.

He looked up at the sky and said, “Jack, I did right by you and trust that you’ll do right by me.”

7

Bear stood in front of a brick wall, in between two pools of light cast down from street lights that sat atop chipped wooden utility poles. The air was still. The block wide buildings on either side of the alley shielded him from the breeze. The narrow alley was empty. Cars passed by on the city roads at each end. None stopped. None turned. The view above offered no signs of life. No light filtered through sheer curtains. No noise slipped through cracked windows. The alley, much like the town itself, had the appearance of being, for lack of a better word, dead. Of course, Bear now realized that Knoxville was nothing like it appeared.

He tried to remain as inconspicuous as a man of his size could. He checked his watch and saw that Pierre was ten minutes late. Bear forgot about trying to stay out of sight.

He pulled out his radio and said, “Pierre? Larsen? Anyone out there?”

He lifted his finger off the transmit button and received static in response. Had he been double crossed? He looked left, then right. Still alone. He started to form a plan should things take a turn for the worse.

Finally a voice came over through the speaker on the radio. “Bear, it’s Pierre. I have Mandy. We are a few blocks away.”

Bear leaned over and placed his hands on his knees. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Lifted the radio to his face and said, “Which way? I’ll start making my way over.”

“No,” Pierre said. “Stick to the plan. Too many moving parts complicates things.”

Bear nodded to no one and then said, “OK.”

The radio returned to silence. Bear paced a ten foot span of the alley. He stopped, facing north, and noticed several cars passing on the street. Eight cars in total. Four close together, then a slight break, then four more. They didn’t stop, and that was all that Bear cared about. He continued pacing. By this point he had retrieved his pistol and held it in his hand, letting it hang down to the side.

Footsteps echoed through the corridor and he stopped. The sounds came from behind him. He slowly turned his head to his right and looked over his shoulder. He saw two silhouettes. One held a gun. The other stood four feet six inches tall. He spun and started walking toward them.

“Bear,” the familiar voice called out.

Bear knelt down and waited for Mandy. She ran into him and hit him with the force of a small car. Threw her small arms around his neck. He wrapped her up and lifted her into the air.

Pierre continued to approach, slowly.

Bear watched with caution. The man had been sent to kill him, after all. Perhaps he was still intent on doing so.

Bear nodded.

Pierre stopped and nodded back.

“Clarissa will meet us at the house tonight,” Pierre said.

“We should head back then.”

“We should split up.”

“Not safe.”

“Neither is traveling in a group.”

“Pierre…”

“Take her, go to the car, and get to the house. I’ll walk. I think I’ll set up across the street from the house.”

“Why?”

“To watch for bad guys.”

“They don’t know nothing about me, Pierre. Come to the house. Come in. We’ll wait for Clarissa and hammer out our plan.”

Pierre said nothing. He saluted Bear and turned and ran through the alley. He turned the corner. The echo of his footsteps faded.

Bear set Mandy down and looked her over. “Are you OK?”

She nodded and wiped tears from her cheeks and eyes.

“You sure? Did they harm you? Do anything to you?”

She shook her head. “No, they were nice to me. I had my own room. It was OK.”

A weight lifted off Bear’s chest. He grabbed Mandy’s hand. “Let’s go. I think we might skip the car and just go to the house.”

“What if we need to leave later?”

“It’s Larsen’s car, not ours.”

“Who’s Larsen?”

“You’ll meet him soon.”

They walked hand in hand to the south end of the alley. Turned left at the corner. Streetlights turned night into day on the main road. The stores were all closed, their lights were off. Bear looked at their reflections in the dark windows. Traffic from Main Street, two blocks away, hummed in the background. The noise blocked out the sound of footsteps behind them until it was too late. Bear spun around and saw two men, armed, standing ten feet from them.

The guy on Bear’s right spoke with a Russian accent. He said, “Where do you think you are going with our girl?”

Bear felt Mandy squeeze in next to him on his left side. He placed his hand on her shoulder. Just inside his jacket was his gun. But he dared not reach for it for fear of the men unloading on them. He had to get the men closer. Draw them in. That would be a fight he could win. But until that happened, he knew he was screwed.

8

Jack landed in Des Moines after nine p.m. He grabbed a rental car. Reached out to Frank. They had narrowed down his search zone to a nearby city called Knoxville. Best guess, Frank had said. Jack shook his head. Might as well have reached into a hat and pulled the name out. He took solace in one thing. Frank’s best guesses were better than the facts most others provided.

He left the airport and drove southeast on Highway 5. Twenty minutes later he found himself in Knoxville.

The town was small and quiet and didn’t offer much in the way of answers to finding Jasmine. He drove through the grid-like city streets east to west and north to south. Turning left then right, at random. Something pushed him. Told him to keep going. He’d find her if he kept on. And that was what he would do. He wouldn’t stop until he found her, and he’d kill anyone that got in his way.